Tiger Eyes
by bluedaizy4
Summary: A play-off of The Lady or the Tiger by Frank Stockton. It's about this woman's choice between her lover's death or seeing him live with another woman. Good stuff. I promise. :-D
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own most of the characters in this story. I do not own the plot, up until he reaches for the door (you will know what I mean later) though the rest is mine. What is not mine is Frank Stockton's form The Lady or the Tiger. I'm just a lowly fanfic writer who thought this would be a great story to play off of. So don't sue! plz (sad eyes) :'-(  
  
A/N: plz review.....i haven't written in quite some time and I need a little reassurance to get back on track.  
~~~~  
  
PROLOGUE:  
  
"The eyes."  
  
The young boy of around seven years looked up, startled, from his absent- minded shuffling of the dirt beneath him with his feet. There, standing before him, was a woman. She was unremarkable to see. She wore a scarf around her head, as was customary. It was black, as if she was mourning, but at this time in Persia, that was not an uncommon thing either. She was slightly aging, of around forty. Her hair was streaked with white, in what had once been black as ebony. She had a sense of urgency about her, as if she had just seen something dead coming for her. And she spoke in a whisper riddled with fear and harshness, as if what she said was evil. As if what she said would bring doom if it left her lips. Which it had. And if the boy hadn't been so shocked, that would have caused him to run for his life. But under the circumstances, all he could do was gape.  
  
"The eyes, boy!" The woman grabbed him suddenly by the shoulders, nearly causing him to scream out loud. But, being seven years old, he didn't want to scream. His friends were a few yards away. He would never do himself the indignity of screaming in fear for their eyes to see. So still, all he could do was gape.  
  
"Listen to me," the woman said. She seemed to be growing more urgent, as if she wanted to be as far away from this spot as possible, but had to do something first. Well he could share in that sentiment. He wanted to be as far away from this spot as possible right now, too. "Listen! You must remember the tiger eyes. You must remember! Because the tiger eyes will be the end of you. Or they could be the end of you, if you let them. And with the end of you, comes the end of us all!"  
  
The woman's eyes shone with obvious fear. She seemed in awe of what she was witnessing, though the boy didn't know what she thought she was witnessing, as all she could see from that close was him.  
  
Suddenly, her hands jumped off of the boy's shoulders and she recoiled as if she'd touched a cobra. "Remember. Don't let us die."  
  
And then she ran.  
  
And so did he.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Once, long ago, in the land of Persia, ruled a king. He had won no major battles, or made peace in any major way. He had not made any great advances in learning or healing. But he was special. What made him so special, you ask? He devised a plan. He devised a way to choose the guilty from the innocent, and let fate decide.  
  
Ah, fate. What a word that is. It rings a little after you say it, giving a deafening sense of finality. Making you realize that no matter what you do will change the outcome. Fate was what this king depended on.  
  
For his system was simple. If a man commited a crime great enough for a sentence of death, he would be brought to an arena. The doors would be opened and the man would step inside. He would not face immediate death there, though crowds did come to see this, just as they did for gladiators. He was faced with two doors.  
  
The doors would be exactly identical. They would be alike in color, shape, size, wood type, and height. But behind each door, something completely different than what was behind the other lay. In one would be a starved, man-eating tiger. In the other would be the most beautiful woman in the whole of Persia. No one, not even the king, would know which was behing what door. After that, the rules were simple. The man chose one. And if he opened the door with the tiger, the Fates had supposedly pronounced him guilty, and he would die. Or if he opened the door with the lady, the Fates had pronounced him innocent, and he would marry the woman on the spot as a reward for his innocence. The king saw this as a genius plan. There was no way that some judge could accuse the man wrongly, for it was left entirely unto the gods.  
  
But, the king had a daughter.  
  
She was a lovely thing to see. Some said that she must have once been a lesser goddess, and that she was sent to watch over mankind. Of course this wasn't true. This girl possessed no divinity. But she did possess royalty. And so, the minute her romance began, it was doomed. Becuase she fell for a man of common blood.  
  
They had an affair for quite some time, staying in secret with their rendezvous'. But of course, as fate would have it, the king eventually found out. He became enraged and arrested the man; set a date for his trial.  
  
Now, the daughter, through her position and wealth, learned which door the lady would be behind at her lover's trial. And which would be the tiger. The princess agonized every day about what to do. She knew that she would have to give her lover some signal. Now that she knew she could not simply leave it up to fate. But what could she do? She couldn't bear the thought of him dying, especially for her eyes to see. But she also couldn't imagine that she could tell her lover to pick the door with the lady. How could she live seeing him with someone else? Actually witnessing their marriage?  
  
Well, she came to a decision. And on the day of the trial, the man stepped into the arena. .He had known that the princess would have found out where his fate would lead him, because he knew her well. So when he stepped in, he casually glanced at her. And she discretely pointed. And he walked to the door that she pointed to.  
  
The End.  
  
Or, at least, that is the end of Stockton's tale. He leaves you to think which door she would have pointed to. But I will tell you my version of the story after.  
  
I will tell you of how the princess's choice effects them all.  
  
And I will tell you of the doom in the tiger's eyes.  
  
In time.  
~~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: tada! there's the prologue. I hope it got you hooked. I'm really looking forward to this fic so plz review!! keep me goin! 


	2. The Decision

disclaimer: I own nothing i tell you, nothing!  
  
A/N: hey everyone. i just wanted to thank all that reviewed. you've got me writing the next chapter, at least! anyway.....the actual story begins....  
  
~~~~~  
  
The Decision  
  
It was loud.  
  
That was all that Noushzad could think of as he stood behind the door to the arena. This was quite ironic, actually, because what stood behind some other door less than a hundred yards away would kill him. Either way he would be dead. He would be eaten alive by a tiger, or he would be eaten away from the inside out by a woman he didn't love.  
  
What kinds of choices were those? Painful death by a brute, or the ironic fate of the even more painful death by a gentle hand. Love was not supposed to be this way. Love was supposed to come magically, from a woman of your own class who could love you without complication. Love was supposed to be the one thing no one could take. And they were.  
  
These things, Noushzad had pondered them every day since he had been caught. He had agonized over how painful his death might be, or how unequal his new wife would be compared to Gelareh. He had thought of these things since then, but right now, the only thought in his mind was that the noise in this small enclosed space was agonizing. Thousands would be sitting in the arena now, waiting for another exciting trial. How cruel it was, to have a man die before a multitude. He would have to suffer their taunting laughs and their uncaring eyes. And he would have to face Gelareh. He would have to look upon her pained face, knowing that he was about to break her heart, whatever the outcome. She would be the one tender heart among the hundreds of flippant remarks and smirking faces. And he was about to ruin her. That is what disgusted him the most, really.  
  
Actually, that was a lie, what disgusted him the most, was the thought of her seeing him marry another. It made him quite literally sick to know that she would be picturing him with someone else while she was the only one that he could ever love. He began to think of all the things he loved about her and stopped himself, knowing full-well that he needed all the courage he could possibly get to do this thing.  
  
Noushzad tried to remain calm. He turned from the guards, because they were not calming sights at all, and took a few very deep breaths. He took in his surroundings, probably the last he'd see that were not shot through with irony and sadness. Even with the chaotic noises of the crowd, these sights were comforting. All he could see was a simple dirt floor, which his toes sank into, high beams of wood, and a bale of hay. The smells and the light falling in sheets through the slats in the wood helped to ease his nerves as well. What a similar place he had spent hundreds of days in his father's gardening shed. He could almost imagine himself there now, if he tried hard enough. Or lied to himself enough.  
  
Trumpets sounded.  
  
Noushzad turned around, and stared at the last door that he would ever see without the promise of death behind it, and he remembered the last words that he had ever heard from his beloved. Trust me. Ah, yes, as he'd been carried off to the dungeons she had mouthed these loathsome words. And he'd known instantly what she meant. She would find out exactly which door the tiger would lay behind. And somehow she would let him know. How awful. His only love would point him to the door of his wife, and it wouldn't be her. Noushzad almost wished that she wouldn't tell him, and spare him the guilt of her sadness. But he knew what would happen. He would see her in the stands, next to her father. She would point in the direction of one of the doors. And lastly, he would open it to the end of both of them.  
  
Roughly, each of the guards grabbed one of his arms with their huge hands, and opened the door wide, letting him through.  
  
The light blinded him for a fraction of an instant, a time in which he whished he could stay forever, that fleeting moment. But soon his eyes adjusted and there was the scene. It was a scene he'd seen numerous times before, but never from this perspective. He'd never been the victim of this insane judgement, he'd always been one of the sneering faces. Always a spectator.  
  
Before him was a mighty arena. The seats were packed full. This was scandalous, a gardeners son sneaking around with the princess. They all wanted to see what the outcome would be. Why, only a few short months ago this would have seen like perfect entertainment. A few months ago he would have loved seeing the look on a princess' face when she saw her illegitimate lover open a door.  
  
A few months ago.  
  
He began to walk slowly up to the kings box, after being shoved roughly by the guards. He tried to focus on the king's face. He tried with every fiber of his being to study the disapproving lines of his eyes and his strong jaw, but it was no use. He caught his last glimpse of Gelareh. Actually, he did more than catch a glimpse of her, he drank the sight of her in. He cherished every second that he could stare even as he wished he could tear his eyes away.  
  
She was just as beautiful as she had always been. The angles of her jaw were soft but yet strong, and her cheekbones were high without making her face look hollow. Her lips were shaped gorgeously and her complexion was creamy and perfect, though the rosy color in her cheeks was absent. Her hair was long, past her waist and the most beautiful shade of black you have ever seen, with a hint of copper when the sun hit it right. And then there were her eyes. Those wonderful eyes. They were the most huge things you have ever seen, with a light brown, amber color to them. They looked like bottomless pools, with long, feathered lashes surrounding them. Those eyes seemed as if they could almost hold the beautiful person that was inside. And they had to be pretty amazing eyes to contain the richness of her soul.  
  
Noushzad bowed to the king, as was customary, though they both knew that he was not paying the slightest bit of attention to the king. They both knew that the sounds had fallen away from him, and all that was left was her.  
  
Suddenly, he saw her hand flash. Confused he tore his gaze from her face and looked in the direction that he thought she'd pointed. The doors were so similar but he was almot positive he saw which one she had indicated. He smiled a little at Gelareh, his last effort to comfort her, and nodded, so that she would know that he would go where she told him to. The right door. The one on the right.  
  
Distantly, he was aware that the king was ordering him to choose one of the doors, more for the crowd's benefit than Noushzad's. He turned from Gelareh, promising himself that he wouldn't look back.  
  
He began to walk toward the doors. He felt conscious of every step that he took, knowing that each one could be his last, or at the very least his last being faithful to Gelareh. It seemed to take hours, that walk to the door on the right, and yet it went far too quickly.  
  
He hoped she had said the door on the right.  
  
Quietly, he approached his destination, and reached for the handle. He reached for the handle on the right door.  
  
But before he could turn it, a scream ripped through the air in the arena.  
  
Noushzad froze. It was Gelareh. His mind started racing, as he stared at his hand, which was resting on the intricately careved handle of the door to the right. The door to the right. Everyone in the audience would think that Gelareh was screaming with greif, which would probably just make their day, but Noushzad kenw better. The instant her hand had flashed in this direction, he had guessed wrong. The door to the left held the fate his beloved had chosen for him. And he'd gone to the wrong door.  
  
He winced and shut his eyes tight. There was no turning back now. If he changed doors after that, then everyone would know that the princess had tried to aid him, and they would both be lost. His only choice was this door. So he did the only thing he could possibly do. He opened it.  
  
Noushzad's eyes opened wide in astonishment at the sight he saw. This was the most awful thing that had ever happened to him, no question. Because those were not cheers of battle, those were cheers for a new groom.  
  
And he was looking at his bride.  
  
As the woman came over to him and kissed him on the cheek, as he was draped in beautiful clothes, and as the king made the announcement of his innocence, he stared at Gelareh, and the look of dumfounded guilt and sorrow on her face. And he was numb. He was void of all feeling, including pain.  
  
Because all he could think was that Gelareh, his Gelareh, had sent him to the tiger. She had sent him to die.  
  
Gelareh, how could you?  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
A/N: ooh.....so sad. lol. anyway, this is just the beginning. It is the event that causes a chain reaction of things to come so review! review whether you liked it or not and the story will continue! 


	3. Aftermath

Disclaimer: No characters and no plot before this point is mine, it is Frank Stockton's.  
  
A/N: hey everybody....back for more? amazing. lol. well, anyway....this chapter will probably be pretty sad/angsty.....because i'm in a kind of sad/angsty mood so.....beware.....lol. and it's also gonna definitely live up to the PG-13 rating so.....beware again. lol. and review...keep the chapters coming!  
  
_____  
  
Aftermath  
  
Noushzad felt empty. He felt void of hope that things could ever be fixed. He felt as if he had been drained of all signs of life, and he was merely a shell. He sat quietly on the bed in the room that the king had provided for him and his new wife for the night. What an incredible joke. The levels of irony were almost endless. The father of the woman he loved had given him a room with his new wife, just down the hall from where Gelareh slept. The reason that he was with his new wife was because the father of the woman he loved had put him on trial for loving his daughter, and had found him innocent, and the price of 'innocence' was worse than any punishment for being guilty could ever be. His new wife, Mahrokh, was in the other room, trying to make herself more beautiful for him, even though he would never look at her and think that she was beautiful. She was attractive, yes, but not beautiful. Not like Gelareh.  
  
And how perfect her name was! Mahrokh, whose face is beautiful, like the moon. How completely fitting. The moon, whose luminance would be nothing, is nothing, without the light of the sun. It's beams only a reflection of the radiance that shines upon the world during the day. That was the kind of beauty that Mahrokh had. Her features were perfect, one could say. But more like a reflection of real beauty than a source. Compared to Gelareh, Mahrokh had higher cheekbones, but they looked hollow and uncaring. Mahrokh had huge eyes, but they held none of the perfection, luminance, fierceness and mystery that Gelareh's did. The woman he would always love.  
  
If only that were wrong! If only the moment that he had known of her betrayal all of his feelings had left him. But they hadn't. And so he was doomed to live a pained existence, knowing what he didn't have.  
  
There was a sound of footsteps from the next room. Noushzad looked up, and there she was. With her hair cascading around her face, making her eyes seem even more cold. There was the villainous wretch who had ruined his life, without even knowing it. But, how could he think of her as such if she didn't know of the havoc she had caused? How could he really hate her? Who could he really hate, except for the king?  
  
"Hello."  
  
~***~  
  
Gelareh thrashed in her bed, the silk sheets and soft mattress not bringing her any comfort. She writhed in guilt, hating herself more than she ever had. Why did she ever do that? Why did she ever send him to the tiger? Why couldn't she have just let him marry the woman, Mahrokh?  
  
Well that was a simple question. She knew why. She knew that she couldn't bear to see him with someone other than herself. She was being territorial and she knew it. She was trying to avoid this. This agony of wondering what was going on in a room two hundred yards away with Noushzad and that woman. Well now she had to live with it anyway. And she also had to live with the fact that she was going to let herself watch him torn to pieces by the claws of a beast.  
  
What was happening to her? Only a few months ago she could have sent a gardener's son to the tiger without missing a beat. No, a few months ago she wouldn't have cared one way or the other. His safety or his death wouldn't have made one ounce of difference to her ability to sleep.  
  
Suddenly, a thought came over her. It wasn't a new thought, but it had the same effect every time. She stopped thrashing and lay still in the bed, making the least amount of noise as possible. She slowly lifted the blankets off of her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She tiptoed to the door, the floor cold on her bare feet, and pressed her ear to the door. She'd done the same thing at least three times in the past two hours. She was hoping to hear some sound, some hint of the goings on in that room. It was completely irrational, because even if she was outside of her room she wouldn't be able to hear anything from two hundred yards away.  
  
She did it anyway.  
  
~***~  
  
"Hello, Noushzad, my husband," she replied. Her voice was pleasant, calming, even if it didn't have that rich musical tone to it.  
  
He smiled slightly, if only to comfort her. Why he thought she would need comforting, he didn't know. "I feel awkward. I don't know what to say to you. I never imagined that I would meet my wife on my wedding night," said Noushzad, hesitating.  
  
A slow smile crept over her lips that sent chills up his spine, not pleasantly, either. The look in her eyes changed. She had a sense of purpose about her now, that she hadn't before. She began to walk over to him, taking all the time that she possibly could to swing her hips seductively, and stood in front of him for a second, before sitting down. He did not have one inch to spare between her body and his own.  
  
Softly, almost in a whisper, she said, "Then don't say anything."  
  
She closed her eyes and she looked as different from Gelareh that anyone could ever look. And then she kissed him. Noushzad didn't really kiss her back. He felt that her lips were soft, and that she was certainly experienced.  
  
Realizing that she wasn't being kissed back, Mahrokh pulled away and looked at him, slightly confused. It looked as if that was the way that her face ought to look, uncertain and emotionless.  
  
"So, I guess I can give up on the idea of a blushing bride?"  
  
She only kissed him again.  
  
And all that he could do was kiss her back.  
  
~***~  
  
Gelareh stood in front of her mirror. She stared at her grim reflection in the dark, with deeper shadows framing her eyes, and wondered what he had ever seen in her. She looked at her profile and then she put her hair up, and then she brushed it. She saw herself in every pose that she could possibly imagine.  
  
She came to a conclusion. There was no way that Noushzad had ever really loved her. What was there to love? Did he love the hollow look in her eyes? Or did he love her too-small breasts? Or maybe he loved her heart. Ha! The heart which would have left him to die! What a thing to love.  
  
A sigh escaped Gelareh's lips. What a tragic love story this was. Like those in the scrolls. Except instead of some terrible outside force keeping them apart, it was one of the lovers herself.  
  
There was a knock at the door. Gelareh's eyes snapped back into focus. "I'll be right there!" She walked quickly to the trunk where her robe lay and put it on over her flimsy nightgown and went to the door. She opened it, and her father was there.  
  
"King Sadri," she aknowledged, bowing her head slightly. This act of respect was an opposite to the complete rage that flared within her at the sight of his face. This man, who was the other factor in the marriage of Noushzad.  
  
"Let's not be so formal, daughter. May I come in?"  
  
"Father, it is very late, and I would like to go back to sleep very soon. Could you possibly just tell me what you have to say out here?" she asked, with a hint of malice in her voice.  
  
"Don't take that tone with me, Gelareh. I may be your father, but I am still the king, and you will not speak to me in such a manner."  
  
"Yes, father," she said, even though she was thinking, I thought we were staying informal. "Come in." King Sadri stepped inside and shut the door. Once he was in, though he didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He stood awkwardly, looking more like a guilty little boy than a king.  
  
"Gelareh, you know that I am deeply dissapointed in you," he said, without much conviction; without meeting her eyes. "But you also must know that I am sorry. I know how hard this is for you."  
  
Like hell you know.  
  
"And, well, I came here to tell you that I am sorry for what you had to go through today, even though I'm not sorry for what I did. I just need you to know that I love you."  
  
The look softened in his eyes, and Gelareh could almost forgive him. Almost.  
  
~***~  
  
Mahrohk's kisses were wild and passionate, even though Noushzad felt no such passion. They sank into the act as if they had both been wanting this for months. Nothing was gentle, and he knew that he would never have gentle again. Not ever. Not with this woman. Silently, a few lone tears made their way down his cheeks, though Mahrokh didn't notice.  
  
She pulled back breifly, without opening her eyes. "I love you," she said, even though he knew the words had no meaning.  
  
~***~  
  
Gelareh's and Noushzad's lips both uttered 'I love you too in the same instant, though the ears that they were meant for would never hear them.  
  
_____  
  
A/N: Ah.....so sad. lol.....anyway.......i hope you liked the chapter.....even if it wasn't very happy. And if you liked it or not.....REVIEW! Because I need 'em to keep goin. 


	4. The Dust Settles

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of Noushzad, Gelareh, Mahrokh, or Sadri (the king) and i don't own the plot up until well.....the actual beginning of my story. Frank Stockton does.   
  
A/n: so sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. as i have said before and as i will say again many times in my life.......school sucks me and all other writers/artists of all of their creative juices. but i have a four-day weekend....and i'm planning on getting a couple of chapters up.so enjoy! these little bursts of updating only come every so often in the school year. anyway..enough with my blabbering...on with the fic!  
  
_________  
  
Slowly Noushzad opened his eyes. He was still groggy and his eyes still wouldn't open completely. Of course, there was hardly a difference, since it was almost as dark with his eys open as when they were closed. He could make out the vague outlines of a few things, such as the foot of the bed, and there was a faint light that had struggled through the tiny holes in the curtains. It wasn't a happy glow, like the beginning of sunrise, but it was a little eerie and half-way trying to make it's appearance, giving Noushzad the impression that it was cloudy outside.  
  
He reached up and rubbed the sand from his eyes, and then ran his fingers through his hair, feeling as if he'd had a little too much wine last night.He turned onto his side and jumped, nearly having a heart attack at the sight of a woman in his bed. What was Gelareh doing here?   
  
With a start he realized that he wasn't in his room. He was in a bedroom in the palace! What were they doing there? How drunk could they have been to stay in the palace? Noushzad's heart started to feel as if it would beat it's way out of his chest.  
  
He jumped out of the bed and scanned the room frantically for his clothes. He spotted his shirt and started to dash for it. They were going to be caught. How would they not be? This was exactly why he and Gelareh would never stay anywhere within the palace walls when they were together. It was far too risky.  
  
Wait. Noushzad stopped in his tracks.  
  
He and Gelareh would never stay in the palace.  
  
Like a monsoon it all came flooding back to him. He and Gelareh would never stay in the palace. And they never had. This was Mahrokh. Not Gelareh. Mahrokh. Noushzad sighed deeply and walked slowly over to the bed and sat down.   
  
He had to think about this. He had to get past it. He had spent all of yesterday and last night and all the days before since his arrest dwelling on how horrific his situation was. He'd already thought about how much he would miss Gelareh. He had already mourned.   
  
What he really needed was to move on. There was no way he would ever stop loving Gelareh, because he did. God, how he did. But it had come to an end. Their relationship was dead. Hope was not possible. He was married. Noushzad was many things but he never thought that he would be unfaithful to his wife if he had one. And now he did, and he didn't want to become a person who would do something like that. Last night had really severed the cord. He thought it would only be the beginning to his misery, but he had been getting over it every day since his arrest. And, if he was completely honest with himself, he had been pretty sure they would be caught from the beginning.  
  
So that was it. This was a new life. The question was, what would he start over with? What did he have to chisten this new age for him? How was anything actually different?  
  
"Good morning, my husband," said his wife's voice from behind him, with a cheerful sleepiness.  
  
~***~  
  
Gelareh had stayed up all night coming up with a plan. Because, she had reasoned to herself, there is no situation which is impossible to get out of. And she had thought of something. They would run away together. That was it. The end of all of her problems was exactly that simple.  
  
All freed prisoners had breakfast with the royal family before they were sent to live their new lives. Of course, her father would be watching her like a hawk. But, somehow, she would give Noushzad a signal. And they would meet afterwards, in the hall or something. Maybe she would volunteer to see the 'happy couple' to the castle walls. And then they would find some way to leave the palace, and then the city. They would get all of the way out of this godforsaken country and find someplace where they could live in peace. Gelareh didn't need a castle to live in. Any place would be better than here.  
  
This had cheered Gelareh up immensely, thinking to herself that they would be gone within a matter of days, to live and grow old together. How perfect.  
  
She took exact care to look gorgeous today. Even though she knew that she was the one to have Noushzad, she still had a slight pang of jealousy, with good reason as well, as she was his wife. But that was no matter. You couldn't really call someone a person's wife when their husband would never see them again after the day after they were married.   
  
Gelareh combed her hair so it hung in perfect sheets around her face and put on enough makeup to make even an old man look like a nineteen year old girl. She put on her most luxurious light blue gown, because that was Noushzad's favorite color, and draped her neck with her finest diamond necklace.   
  
It was still much too early to go down to breakfast so she sat on the bed, with an enormous smile plastered on her face, thinking about how wonderful everything was going to be.   
  
~***~  
  
Noushzad turned around and smiled. Of course. This was the exact way he was going to move on with his life. He was going to find some way to love his wife. Unfortunately, he didn't see much there to love, but he couldn't compare her to Gelareh. He would just have to find something positive about her. She really was quite beautiful. There, that was one thing already.  
  
"Mahrokh, how are you?"  
  
"I'm absolutely wonderful," she said coyly, putting an exaggerated smile on her face, hinting obviously. Noushzad didn't know whether to smile or to sigh in frustration so he did a kind of combination of both, most likely making himself look extremely funny.  
  
"Don't do that, Mahrokh. You are my wife now. You don't have to win me over. I'm won."  
  
She looked a little flustered, her eyes got a little wide and she looked at her husband as if he had surprised her, but she quickly regained her composure. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my husband."  
  
"Mahrokh, I can't live with you like this. You can't live with me like this. Not for long, anyway, not without breeding resentment," said Noushzad, sighing once again. He scooted himself over, next to her on the bed, and looked at her in the face. "We are a married couple, like it or not," and his voice choked on this part a little, because he knew that he should mourn his love for Gelareh for longer than he was, and even though it did hurt him to say that Gelareh wasn't his wife, it almost killed him to think that it didn't hurt more than it did. "We are going to have to get to know eachother. And I don't sincerely believe that you are only what you have been showing to me."  
  
Mahrokh just stared at him for about thirty seconds. "I don't know what to make of you, husband..." Her lips hung suspended like that for a few seconds, and she seemed as if she would say something else, but suddenly something shifted behind her eyes, and she got up to get dresseed.   
  
"We have to get ready to go to dinner with the royal family. With the princess." And with that last word she turned around and pierced him with a gaze that would most likely kill if he hadn't had that exact same look a thousand times from Gelareh. And since he had, it only made it a thousand times worse.  
  
Noushzad stared open-mouthed for a moment. He hadn't expected such a blunt accusation. Not from Mahrokh at least. And the strange part was, that now he wasn't sure who he felt he was betraying.  
  
~***~  
  
Gelareh checked her hair one last time in the hall outside of the dining room. She really had to stop twisting at the cloth on her gown. It was going to wrinkle, and then she would look just as nervous as she felt. She took to wringing her hands instead, while absentmindedly tracing the intricate carvings on the frame of the mirror with her eyes, not really knowing what to think about in this huge chaotic mess that she'd created.  
  
She stalled in every way possible, checking her makeup time and time again, going over in her mind the exact words that she would say to create the effect that she needed to create, taking in all of her surroundings as if she had never stood in this hallway before. Of course, this was hardly true since almost every meal she'd had since she was born had taken place there, with the occasional exception of breakfast outside or dinner at a foreign dignitary's home. Finally, deciding that there was no way to put it off any longer without upsetting her father, Gelareh nodded to the servants who pushed open the doors for her to enter the dining room.  
  
The scene was horrible. Her father sat at the head of the table, looking nothing like the 'caring' father that had visited her in her room last night, but more like an executioner that was trying to make the blow a little softer. Possibly by dulling the blade so you had to hack at the head, I'm sure. That seemed as if it were a way her father would look at being kind. He wore his formal attire, which was almost entirely gold. Next to him on either side was an empty seat. One was reserved for Gelareh, and the other was always kept empty, in the memory of her mother. The seat next to the one reserved for her mother was another empty seat, one which was reserved for Noushzad. Well, so much for making an entrance for him. She'd beat him there. And unfortunately, the seat next to Gelareh's was not empty, as Mahrokh was sitting there. Father was going to make them sit together.   
  
Gelareh sighed to herself and then dutifully curtsied, though not very deeply. Even if she had made an effort to do so, her father would have been immediately suspicious, so being especially polite would do her no good.   
  
"Good morning and praises to you King Sadri. And good morning Lady Mahrokh," she said in a kind of monotone voice. She walked as silently as she could to her chair and sat down.   
  
There was an uncomfortable silence for a while, with someone making the occasional neuteral remark about the weather or where Noushzad was or sometimes Gelareh's father would clear his throat and cough a little. Fortunately the awkwardness ended when the doors once again opened.  
  
___________________  
  
A/N: tada......4th chapter...took me long enough, huh? lol. well everybody needs to review so i can continue!!! (and also semi-sorry for the semi-cliff hanger i left you on......it's not that bad really......unless you know what's coming....... 


	5. A Leisurely Breakfast

disclaimer: all right....this is the absolute last disclaimer that i'll do since nothing from now on is REALLY Frank Stocktons (besides the characters) but in case any of you get confused....i will do it one last time and you can refer to this one or the ones in chapters 1-4. OK...here goes: the characters of Gelareh, Noushzad, Mahrokh, and King Sadri are not mine, though their names are because he did not mention names in the original, the plot before he chooses a door is not mine either. any other part of the plot IS. Everything that I mentioned before to NOT be mine belong to Frank Stockton. If he's still alive. I'm not really sure. anyway...  
  
A/N: I'M BACK!!!! woohoo! and updates should be a lot faster as long as i get REVIEWS from now on....because it's summer....praise the lord. school is evil and i don't have it for 2 and a half months. YESYESYES! anyway....here comes the fifth chapter....  
  
____________  
  
A Leisurely Breakfast  
  
Noushzad stepped into the room with a horribly tense expression on his face. He averted his eyes from Gelareh, but she was sure that this was only because he didn't want to appear eager to see her, especially in front of the king and his 'wife'. Gelareh smiled an enormous smile inside, but only said 'Good morning, Noushzad' in the most blank tone she could muster.  
  
Noushzad walked to his chair, making a light flapping sound with his sandals that all of us could hear, because none of us was making a sound ourselves. He sat down tentatively, seeming to wish he could dash out of the door and keep this situation from happening. Gelareh felt like laughing. Her poor little lover. Couldn't he have known that she would come up with something? Shouldn't he have known that there was no way that Gelareh was just going to let them die? Noushzad looked anxiously from the king to Mahrokh to the king to Mahrokh, but Gelareh saw that his eyes passed over her every time.  
  
Suddenly, Gelareh's father cleared his throat in a very obvious manner. "Well, good morning all. I trust that everyone had a good nights rest," he said. It wasn't a question.  
  
"Of course, your majesty," we chorused in unison. We sounded so much like sulky school children saying good morning to their teacher that it was comical. Gelareh smiled and caught Noushzad's eye, and he smiled back at her. His smile could still make her stomach seem to turn over, but it quickly vanished when he realized what he was doing.  
  
Gelareh glanced over at Mahrokh to see if she had detected this, but she didn't seem to be noticing anything. She stared at her plate with an intensity that the rolls, goat cheese, and ham certainly did not deserve. If Gelareh had not turned her head so quickly away, so as not to be noticed looking at anyone strangely, she would have seen Mahrokh glancing at her from time to time in quick, jerky movements that were supposed to go unnoticed, and did by everyone but Noushzad.  
  
"Your majesty, the food is excellent," said Noushzad, in a vain attempt to keep conversation flowing. The king only nodded, and then something dawned on Gelareh. Her plan could not work with Mahrokh sitting where she was. Well, it couldn't work without quite a bit of difficulty. Not that the plan was working so far. Gelareh hadn't said one of the things she'd planned to say so far to keep an air unfeeling toward Noushzad. But the plan certainly wouldn't work of at all with Noushzad's bride sitting just there. At first Gelareh had been planning to say something casual during the conversation that neither Sadri nor Mahrokh would pick up on, but Noushzad would see as an obvious plan of where to meet afterward. But, as hard as Gelareh thought, she knew that there would be nothing that the king would not pick up right away, and their meeting would be interrupted by guards 'coincidentally' passing by. That could not be allowed to happen. So she had decided to slip him a note that would be obvious to anyone at this table reading, but would not be to any servant who might find it later. Of course this idea crumbled if Mahrokh saw or felt the passing, and there was no way that she would not detect some movement from where she was sitting. For some reason, Gelareh had been picturing Noushzad sitting next to her. Stupid, stupid thought! Why would the king ever place them beside eachother.  
  
There had now been a large gap in the conversation and everyone looked nervous. Even the king seemed a bit quieter than usual. Gelareh groped in her mind for one of the clever things that she had planned to say, but it just wasn't coming to her. None of the dozens of lines that she'd gone over so meticulously in the hall would come to her when she actually needed them. Because this picture of tension was certainly not the atmosphere that Gelareh needed to give the image that she had no feelings for Noushzad whatsoever. Especially when she couldn't help staring a little.  
  
"Noushzad, you certianly were lucky in the wife that was given to you," King Sadri said forcefully. Gelareh would have noticed that his face tightened considerably if all at once she hadn't blurted out in an extremely loud and triumphant voice, "YOURNEWWIFEISSOBEAUTIFULNOUSHZAD!"  
  
Gelareh clamped her hands firmly over her mouth in disbelief. She had been trying so hard to remember one of the things that she'd planned to say that when the king had actually brought up the subject of one she had immediately remembered it and without thinking said it out loud. Everyone gaped openly at her for a few seconds with their jaws dropped slightly, even Mahrokh. Thankfully, the king chuckled a bit, in a strangeled sort of way albeit, but it broke the silence in any case.  
  
"Thank you for emphasizing my point so, daughter, our minds do think alike," he put the stress on the word daughter so meaningfully that even the dullest of people would have caught on to it.  
  
About ten minutes later when all of our food was long eaten and the uncomfortable silence was still there, being broken by the occasional awkward comment. Gelareh soon realized that she was going to have to give Noushzad the note because breakfast would be over soon and conditions were not changing favorably in the least. Gelareh would have opened it in her lap to read it over once more and be sure that a random servant would not pick up on its exact meaning, or at least who it applied to, if Mahrokh had not been sitting where she was sitting. But it was fine, because she had read it so many times before coming in that she knew every word by heart:  
  
Excuse yourself. Say you are going to the restroom but really go to the place where we first met. I will hurry the breakfast along and join you when it is over. We need to speak, but we need to do it breifly. Go.  
  
They weren't exactly neutral comments, but it could apply to anyone. And no one knew where we had met so we wouldn't be found. So now the real tricky parts began: getting the note to Noushzad, getting her father to finish up breakfast before Noushzad came back, and getting to the place without being seen. Well, one hurdle at a time was certainly enough. So how to catch his attention without causing to look blatantly in her direction? She would have to just get the note to him and not catch his attention first. But the table was so wide that there was no way she could hand it to him under it without bending over and being obvious.  
  
Gelareh froze the rest of her body so she wouldn't bend over reflexively and brought her foot up into her lap. She stuck the very corner of the folded note into her sandal and then slowly and cautiously moved it under the table. Lifting her foot as high as it would go without sending the food at the top of the table falling by the impact of her foot she put it over Noushzad's lap, doing everything in her power not to touch him, to make him look at her. She then did the same thing with her other foot, and noted absentmindedly that lifting your legs that high without moving the rest of your body was quite good exercise. With the toe of her left foot she knocked the note off of her right foot and jerked her legs back with a force she didn't know she had in her.  
  
Noushzad started slightly and looked down. Gelareh winced but apparantly no one else had noticed. He looked at Gelareh, a little wide eyed, and she was only thinking why couldn't he just be discreet about this? Well, he didn't know about it beforehand, but still. Honestly. She was also thinking that he did have the most beautiful eyes. Noushzad looked down at his plate as if he couldn't take the tension any more and Gelareh could barely even detect his eyes sliding to his lap and his opening of the note. Well, when he caught on he wasn't that bad.  
  
After a few seconds he went back to looking at his plate with an expression on his face that was entirely uncertain and off guard, like a fish out of water. 'What are you thinking of?' thought Gelareh, 'Just get out of here!'  
  
As if he'd heard her thoughts, Noushzad suddenly looked up and said to the king that he needed to be excused for the restroom. Without waiting for an answer he stood up and ran out, holding on to his stomach as if he would throw up. Nice touch.  
  
After the slam of the door, the room was completely silent. Gelareh thought feverishly. What would make the king want to leave before he got back? Gelareh sat thinking and coming up with nothing for nearly three minutes before it hit her. He was best at arguing. She would let him..  
  
"Well father," she said in a rather loud and suspicious voice, "I think that we should wait until Noushzad gets back before we leave. It would ONLY be correct." Of course Gelareh knew that he would not be able to stand letting her have her way in this matter. And Gelareh was going to use something that she didn't think she would be able to use before: everyone's knowledge of what was really going on here.  
  
"Now, I don't think that that's necessary," said the king with a kind of satisfaction. "We're all done here. Are you finished eating, Mahrokh?" She nodded in a jerky, nervous way. How had they picked sucha dim one?  
  
"But father! That is not the custom!" said Gelareh in her most whiny, panicked voice.  
  
"Don't you ever call me anything but King in public, child!" he hissed. She knew that one would get him. "Our breakfast is done."  
  
Here came the risky part. But it was the only way she saw of not being followed by guards. He knows I know he knows, she thought. Or at least that's what she was counting on.  
  
"I don't believe this!" she screamed in a kind of teary rage. "You are going to let him go just like that! So that I will never in my life see him again! This is so unjust! I hate you and I will always hate you."  
  
And that's how it went. It was perfect, exactly as according to plan, as if the king and Gelareh had been reading lines from a script that she had written herself. She ran out of the room in 'tears', dashed down the halls, past her room, to the supply closet where she had been looking for a comb and had found something far better. No one was following her.  
  
Nothing could go wrong, now.  
  
_____________________________  
  
A/N: hahahaha. that's an actual cliffhanger. not like the little weak-ass one in the last chapter. I know that not TOO much happened in this chapter but the transition was necessary. Anyway.....the next chapter should be coming out soon, seeing as it's SUMMER!!! but i won't update until i've had a couple of reviews.....so review people! 


	6. Her Name Is Mahrokh

A/N: Okay...I am DONE with waiting for reviews (yay for all of you who want updates this century) so i'm just gonna write and take what i can get :-D. so have fun with many updates and if you DO happen to read, plz review.  
  
~***~  
  
ch. - HER NAME IS MAHROKH  
  
Noushzad waited silently. He was silent in speech and his mind and heart as well. He should have expected this, really. And he should have been shocked since he didn't. But he wasn't. He was far too numb to feel any emotion as great as shock. 'Well, this is what you get for getting yourself involved with royalty', a nagging voice said in the back of his mind. But he didn't respond. He just stood there, leaning against a stack of sacks of flour. He had no sense of purpose any more. He would just do what he had to do.  
  
Footsteps. There was someone rushing down the hallway to this closet. It didn't even cross his mind that it could be someone besides Gelareh. No one else would know to look here. Noushzad started to massage his temples, trying to keep the numbness there. He would not let feelings show on his face when Gelareh was there.  
  
Footsteps were slowing. A few yards away, she had started to walk. Numbness. Unfeeling. Stay that way. Her face would NOT affect him in any way. The close proximity of this closet would NOT cause him to be unfaithful to his wife. His wife. Gelareh could not do that to him any more. No. No. No. No. No.   
  
Now her hand had touched the doorknob. And it was turning. And no matter how much he fought to stay numb, Noushzad's heart sped up at the prospect of seeing her. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...  
  
Yes.   
  
There she was, tentatively stepping through the door, smiling a nervous, sort of awkward smile. And right there, his heart melted, all thoughts of numbness gone, just as it had when he had seen her at breakfast. But he had kept it under control then, and he could do it again now. He would keep himself under control. He had a wife. He had a wife. He had a wife.  
  
He had already been on trial for this.   
  
"Hello," she said. And she stepped into the closet, with about a half a foot to spare between the two of them.   
  
Remember your wife. If only her name wasn't so hard to think of right now. 'M' something. Mah...Mah....  
  
"Hello, Gelareh," he replied, with every nerve in his body poised, trying to keep a straight face. I do NOT love her any more. I am over her. I have mourned for her. There is no turning back. But she is standing right there....  
  
And then she stepped forward, removing any extra space between that either of them had and she was kissing him, and there were no more thoughts in his head, though he was far, far from numb. Perfect. This was where he belonged, right here with Gelareh....  
  
Oh. Shit.  
  
"No," he mumbled pushing away. "No. Gelareh not now, not..." he tried to explain. He needed her to know. He needed her to understand that he could not go back. There was not an 'us' any more. But, that was the message he got across. Because now she was smiling a thousand-degree smile, with no trace of disspointment.  
  
"You are absolutely right. We have no time for this, it will come later," she purred mischeviously.  
  
"But Gel..."  
  
"I have the perfect plan. But it has to happen right now."  
  
"Gelareh..."  
  
"No, no. I am sure that you have thought of something as well, but my plan is fool-proof. We must use it."  
  
"I need to...."  
  
"Just let me finish. Please?" He met her with silence, knowing he would never get to say anything until she was finished with whatever she had to say.  
  
"Good. So, right now they are packing your bags. They are preparing a packmule as we speak for you and Mahrokh to leave the palace," she said Mahrokh with no small amount of disgust. "But I already have a bag packed for you. And me. We will get changed, disguise ourselves as servants. And my personal maid is waiting for us at the gate, and will get us through. I have a route planned so we will not pass anyone leaving the palace. Then we will go to a safehouse that I have also had prepared by my maid. No one lives there. There we will stay just for a few days until I can get new identities for us and..."  
  
"No." He said it forcefully enough to catch her attention. He had had enough of this. Any more, and he might go along with it. Gelareh looked at him with a slightly stunned and confused expcession, wondering why her plan had been so readily rejected.  
  
"But Noushzad I didn't even get to finish."  
  
"Look, Gelareh," he said quietly, putting his hands on her shoulders, to ease the blow and also to keep her at arms length, "I cannot go with you." She opened her mouth slightly to protest. "No, I mean that I will not." Do not let the look on her face bother you. No. This has to be done. "Gelareh, like it or not I am married. I am married to Mah...Mah...someone else."  
  
Her face was falling so quickly, it was painful. Noushzad suddenly had the urge to defend himself.   
  
"Besides, weren't you the one who sent me to be killed?" He said it with much more malice than he had intended. Gelareh looked even more pained, and shocked, and confused. And now she looked totally ashamed.  
  
That look on her face was too much for him to handle. There was too much emotion in this small amount of space. A few minutes ago he was numb. Why couldn't he be numb again? Why?  
  
"I have to go Gelareh. My wife is waiting."  
  
He said it without looking her in the face. He said it meaning for the last words to be a horrible blow, but he wasn't sure why he needed to say them.  
  
And then he left her there, in the place where he had first fallen in love with her.  
  
~***~  
  
"My name is Mahrokh."   
  
As Noushzad stepped out of the closet, his jaw dropped. His wife was standing right outside the door. She had heard everything. And there were two guards standing right behind her.  
  
~***~  
  
A/N: tada! new chapter! hooray. aaaanyway.....I hope this thing picks up speed soon. because it's about to get good and I get kind of bored having to write all of the pre-stuff. anyway....i hope you liked it....and even though I'm not waiting for them, I hope you'll review anyway. :PLEASE?!?!?!?! ;- 


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